A Crimson Flower
by praemonitus praemunitus
Summary: A desperate decision to save his friends' lives thrusts Steve, Danny and Grace into a world straight out of a fairy-tale... or a nightmare. There will be whumpage (mostly Steve's); there will be angst. And, yes, there will be a fairy-tale.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **Well, I can safely say that I have never attempted anything like this before. It's been on my mind for a while, and I finally decided to go ahead and put it in writing - come what may. The story is based loosely on the classic "Beauty and the Beast" fairy-tale, and the action sort of goes back and forth between reality and fantasy. I believe things will begin making more sense, as the plot develops (at least I hope so). The story is fairly short, but has plenty of whumpage and angst for those of you, who like that stuff :-)

I hope you read and review, let me know what you think.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"I'm not even sure I should be letting you drive my car," Danny grumbled, as his partner settled gleefully in the driver seat, promptly throwing the car in drive. "Every time you get behind the wheel, something happens. Usually bad. Usually to me."

Steve's head whipped toward him at the accusation, a frown of mock hurt twisting his features. "It wasn't my fault, Danny," he defended sourly. "I wasn't even driving it at the time. The car was parked."

"True," the blond conceded, albeit reluctantly, his finger rising in silent warning to forestall any further argument from his partner, "but **you** were the one who parked it."

"How am _**I **_responsible if some idiot is incapable of pulling out of a parking lot without hitting a car next to him?" Steve huffed indignantly, slashing his hands through the air in perfect imitation of his friend's energetic gesticulation.

"HANDS! Hands on the wheel, Steven. My car does not need any more dents, thank you very much."

Steve grabbed the wheel obediently, his face morphing into an injured scowl, making his partner sigh in exasperation.

"Would you stop it with the wounded puppy look?" he grumbled good-naturedly, poking the former SEAL lightly in the ribs. "I'm telling you were lucky that guy happened to be a mechanic and offered to fix the car right away. Otherwise you'd be footing the bill for a rental."

Beside him Steve snorted a rather loud, skeptical "huh", which immediately put all of Danny's warning senses on high alert.

"What's with the attitude, Super SEAL?" he asked carefully, wondering if his partner hadn't taken his jabbing just a bit too seriously.

McGarrett appeared to hesitate a moment before quietly muttering, "Just seems too convenient, is all."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"I don't believe in convenient coincidences, Danny," he explained with a shrug.

"Uh-huh," the blond rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. "That's 'cause the only thing you do believe in is paranoia, my friend."

Steve opened his mouth to respond, when a small voice from the backseat inquired, "What is paranoia, Danno?"

The two adults exchanged brief glances; Steve barely suppressing a smirk, despite the murderous glare that Danny was sending his way.

"I'll...uh... I'll explain it to you later, Monkey," the flustered dad managed finally, turning halfway in his seat to face his daughter.

"Okay," the nine-year-old nodded trustingly, her attention quickly diverted back to the thick colorfully illustrated book that was resting on her knees. Suddenly another idea occurred to her, and she looked up once again, a worried frown pulling at her eyebrows. "Uncle Steve, how much longer is it to Diamond Head?"

"About another 15 minutes," the former SEAL responded, briefly catching her gaze in the rearview mirror. "Are you in a hurry to get there?"

The girl blushed slightly, shaking her head. "I just... I wanted to know if I'll have time to finish this story."

"She's really into fairytales now," Danny supplied by way of explanation. "Been reading them non-stop for the past week. For some reason, she wasn't satisfied with Disney's versions."

"Oh yeah?" Steve glanced in the mirror again, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Which story are you reading now, Gracie?"

"Beauty and the Beast."

"I see." He threw another glance at his partner, noting facetiously, "I wonder if the dancing teapot is in that version as well."

"Shut up and drive, Steven."

H50- H50- H50- H50- H50

"Do you think you could slow down a bit?" Danny hissed, grabbing the door handle, as the car swerved sharply on yet another high-speed turn. "We're going to a tourist attraction, not chasing a getaway car, for crying out loud."

His partner's strained, gritted out "I'm trying, Danny!" had him whipping his head in Steve's direction, and he frowned, noting his white-knuckled grip on the wheel and the impossibly tense muscles.

"What's wrong? Steve?"

The former SEAL spared him a quick glance, his face - a mask of rigid concentration. "We got no brakes, Danny," he bit out, his attention once again riveted to the road ahead.

"What?!" Danny all but jumped in his seat, only belatedly remembering that his daughter was still in the back and was now watching the two of them curiously. "What the hell are you saying?" he repeated, dropping his voice down to barely a whisper.

"The brakes are gone," Steve answered in a matching whisper. "The emergency brake's dead, too."

"Can't you...," Danny swallowed harshly, his eyes widening at the implication, "...can't you, I don't know, downshift orsomething?"

"I've already downshifted, Danny," he snapped, his jaw tightening in frustration. "But that incline we passed a couple minutes ago shot all of that to hell." He flicked another gaze at his now overly-agitated partner, a brief shadow of something akin to regret flickering in the dark-blue depths. "I can't slow it down," he whispered, wincing apologetically. "Not on this stretch of the road. Not until we run out of fuel or..."

"Or we run **into** something," Danny finished for him, shuddering at the implication. _"Grace. Dear God, Grace!"_

As if sensing his turmoil, the little girl put her book aside, frowning worriedly at her father. "Danno? Why are we driving so fast?"

Danny forced his lips into a smile, giving her what he hoped was a look of confidence and reassurance. "Everything's alright, Monkey," he responded with false cheerfulness. "Uncle Steve's just having a bit of car trouble, but he's about to fix that. Isn't that right, Uncle Steve?"

Steve didn't respond, concentrating instead on maneuvering the car around yet another turn; his fingers digging even harder into the black leather, as he swung the car to the side to avoid crashing into a slowly cruising sedan.

"There's a bit of a climb up ahead, just before the tunnel," McGarrett said after a moment, his voice tense and low. "If we make it there, we should be able to lose more speed. Then I'll be able to slow us down in the field behind it."

Danny closed his eyes briefly, allowing himself this tiny moment of relief, albeit premature. "Good, that's good," he breathed out, once again turning in his seat to wink at his daughter. "See? Uncle Steve has everything under control, Sweetie. Nothing to worry about."

But there was. A stalled tourist bus blocking the road about a thousand feet up the very incline Steve was counting on.

"Steve!"

Danny's screeched out warning was ignored, as Steve's gaze swept frantically across the road before him, frantically searching for a way out of their predicament. A fraction of a second later he saw it – a solution so simple, it almost made him laugh out loud: a dark, desperate laugh. Slamming head on into a bus at the speed with which they were going didn't bode well for his passengers or the people on the bus, and Steve wasn't willing to have so many lives on his conscience. This, however, would almost ensure that there'd be only one casualty – himself. And that was something Steve didn't have to think twice about.

His decision made, he twisted the wheel sharply to the left at the last moment with a hastily barked out "Hang on!", missing the bus and its fearfully cowering passengers by a breadth of a hair. A moment later the Camaro came to an abrupt stop, its driver side slamming viciously into a roadside tree, carried there by a well-angled trajectory.

The car's windshield exploded, showering the front seat with shards of sun-splattered glass. Miraculously hanging on to the feeble threads of consciousness, Steve blinked sluggishly up at the blazing heavenly body, whose rays streamed unhindered through the gaping hole in the front of their car. He shivered slightly, wondering numbly why he didn't feel any of the warmth that those rays must have surely provided. There was something sharp and heavy digging savagely into his abdomen, cutting off his breath. _Maybe that was the reason he felt so cold?_

He shivered again, gasping desperately for air. But it was all for naught. The air was suddenly no more. The image of the sun flickered in a deep crimson haze that descended out of nowhere. Once. Twice. And then the image splintered, disappearing altogether.

* * *

TBC

Khm, well, that's the set-up... Hope you liked it.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** First of all, can I just say "WOW"! The response you, guys, gave the first chapter was just... overwhelming and so very humbling. Thank you to each and every one of you who reviewed, favorited and put an alert on this story! I tried to respond to all of you. I may have missed some. I apologize if I did. Thank you! I can only hope that you continue to give this story the same support with the future chapters.

**A/N2** We are now delving into the fantasy part of the story, and I feel I need to make a couple of notes. First of all, and this is something I should have mentioned in the note to chapter 1, the title of the story is actually a translation of the title of the Russian version of "Beauty and the Beast". The fact that that title focused on the flower and, especially, its **color **rather than on the two main characters is the reason I chose it.

The other thing that I would like to reiterate (so as to avoid any misunderstandings or disappointments) is that this story uses the "Beauty and the Beast" fairy-tale **loosely**, so please do not be alarmed if things do not always appear to follow that fairy-tale's outline. Trust me, there's a method to the madness there, and things will (hopefully) make sense in the end. (I'm keeping my fingers crossed for that).

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Steve came awake to the strangest sensation of something poking him into his left cheek; something cold and wet and... furry? He peeled his eyes open, blinking in confusion at the slender brown fur-covered snout that loomed above him - mere inches from his face.

"Wha-?" he gasped out hoarsely, trying to slide away from the furry apparition.

The creature cocked its head slightly, its large wet eyes staring curiously down at him. Then its muzzle moved closer again, the wet nose planting itself firmly into Steve's cheek, and he flinched away, raising his hand up to push the creature back. The animal snorted, its warm breath tickling his cheek, and moved away a bit, shaking its head indignantly.

"Ah, the Sleeping Beauty awakens," came a familiar voice from somewhere to the left of him, and Steve bolted upright, memories crashing over him like a giant tidal wave: _the malfunctioning brakes, the tree, the crash... _ Instinctively his hand reached for the wound in his abdomen, frowning as he felt nothing there. _If he was dead, if this was some kind of a strange afterlife place that his soul is stuck in, then why would Danny be here? Unless..._

He whipped his head to the side, staring wide-eyed at his partner. "What are you doing here?" The words were out before he could stop them, because this here - it just wasn't right. _Because he was careful, dammit! He made __**sure**__ the impact would only be on his side. Then why?..._

The blond frowned, his brow arching in incredulity. "Seriously? **That's **gonna be the first thing that comes out of your mouth? How about 'hey, partner', 'good to see you, partner'?"

"Hey, partner," Steve rasped out obediently, his careful gaze sweeping intently over every inch of his friend's body, searching for injuries. Breathing a sigh of relief upon finding Danny seemingly intact, he repeated, "What are you doing here?"

Danny gave an exasperated sigh and crouched down to his partner's level. "Well, long story short, I wake up in this... _Neverland_ to find my daughter playing petting zoo with a bunch of wild animals," he pointed behind him, and Steve barely held back a groan upon seeing the familiar dark pig-tailed head partially hidden behind a family of deer. _No, not Gracie, too..._

"And then I find you snoring here, like you haven't got a care in the world. Hell, Bambi here's been trying to wake you up for the past 20 minutes with no success."

"Bambi?" Steve frowned at the brown-furred creature that continued to hover over him throughout his partner's explanations. It was, indeed, a deer. A fawn, to be exact, thought old enough that his spots were already beginning to fade.

"The name was Grace's idea, by the way," Danny clarified, noting his curiously raised eyebrows, "so don't start looking at me like that."

"I wasn't," the former SEAL protested, shaking his head to dispel the cobwebs from his befuddled mind. _Why were they all here? And, most importantly, where the hell was 'here'?_

Slowly getting his feet under him, he stood, trying not to flinch, when he felt the animal move in closer once again, rubbing its muzzle against his pant leg.

"I think Bambi has taken a real liking to you," the blond detective snickered, observing the pair with an amused grin.

"Have you seen anyone else here?" Steve inquired, ignoring the jab, as he let his gaze sweep across the motley flora that surrounded their small clearing. European oaks, maples and pine trees stood proudly alongside tall papayas, banana and palm trees, ferns, junipers and wild raspberry bushes clinging tightly to the massive trunks, completing that seemingly haphazard hodgepodge of greenery. Every few seconds a flock of brightly colored birds would rise up above the lush green crowns, their loud shrieking calls adding to the overall surreal feeling evoked by these strange surroundings.

"You mean apart from our woodland friends?"

Steve pursed his lips in annoyance, giving his friend an exasperated look. "Yes, Danny, I mean the two-legged kind."

Danny gave him a smile that spoke of the pleasure the blond man was taking in pushing his buttons. "Doesn't look like there's anybody here but us," he said finally, shaking his head. "At least I haven't seen anyone." He pointed somewhere beyond the spot where the edge of the clearing all but disappeared into the dense, twisted undergrowth. "I explored a bit, while you were zonked out. There's a path through there. Looks to be manmade."

The SEAL narrowed his eyes at that, nodding thoughtfully before striding purposely toward the place Danny had pointed out.

"Wait, wait. Wait, dammit!" Danny ran up behind him, catching him by the upper arm. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"If there's a manmade path, like you said, there might be people on the other side of that forest," Steve responded without slowing his pace. "Maybe they'll be able to tell us how to get you two out of here."

If Danny noticed that he didn't include himself in that sentence, he didn't show it. Instead he fell in step beside him, wordlessly motioning for Grace to join them.

H50- H50- H50- H50- H50

Some twenty minutes later Steve pushed aside a thick, heavy branch that was blocking their passage and stopped short at the sight that opened before him. Beside him he heard Danny's quietly mumbled "wow" and Grace's excited squeal, but he just stared dumbfounded at the luxurious, sunlit gardens meticulously laid out before them like on an engineer's drawing board. Flowers – vividly bright splashes of color – swirled in intricate patterns along the orderly brick-paved paths, their aromas mixing together in a sweet, intoxicating smell. The glaring disparity between the chaotic wildness of the forest and the almost prim neatness of the garden had the two men share a pointed look, and Danny nodded questioningly at an imposing white-stone castle at the far end of the path that stood silhouetted sharply against the grass-covered rock.

"Let's go," Steve confirmed simply, stepping out onto the sunlit bricks, certain that his partner would follow.

They were only steps away from the castle, when the sun suddenly vanished, the world around them plunging swiftly into a near frigid semi-darkness. A strong gust of wind ripped through the garden, almost knocking them off their feet and robbing them of breath. A loud snap of thunder roared in the swirling mass of black clouds above them, and the ground rumbled ominously in response.

"Grace!" Danny cried out suddenly beside him, the fear and urgency in his friend's voice drawing Steve's attention to the blond's deathly pale face, as the latter scanned frantically the murky blackness surrounding them. "GRACE!"

The desperate, fear-filled eyes met Steve's for the briefest of seconds, a wretched whisper of "I don't see her" tumbling past the bloodless lips, and then he was back to peering into the darkness. "Gra-aace!"

Darkness echoed then in a frantic high-pitched scream, and they both rushed toward the sound, stumbling across the suddenly inhospitable ground. They saw her moments later, cowering fearfully amidst the wind-whipped flowerbed, a small red rose clutched tightly in her hand, as three giant pillars of billowing gray smoke swirled around her, getting closer and closer with each passing second.

"Grace!" Danny tore forward, reaching for his daughter, but the smoke thickened momentarily, hiding her from view. An instant later the smoke veil fell away, revealing three silver-haired figures in light, almost ethereal robes an airy pale-gray color, seemingly woven from smoke itself.

"She picked the Crimson Flower," one of the creatures declared coldly, glaring at them with strangely opaque, unkind eyes. "She had no right."

Grace visibly shuddered at that, throwing the flower onto the ground, as though it had burned her. "Danno?" she whimpered pleadingly, turning her tear-streaked face toward him. "I didn't mean to. Tell them I didn't mean to. Mom likes roses, and I wanted-"

"Of course, you didn't mean to, Sweetheart," Danny soothed, taking a cautious step forward. "We're just gonna apologize to these nice people here and go home." He reached for her again, and once again found his path blocked by one of the gray-robed creatures.

"She picked the Crimson Flower," it repeated in the same deadened voice. "She tainted the Garden."

"Her blood is ours now," added another.

"What?!" the blond flinched as if from a physical blow, the shock of the statement rendering him momentarily speechless. And then like a spring that had uncoiled after being compressed too hard and too long, he lunged at the smoky figure, despair and anger fueling his attack.

He didn't get far. Something glinted brightly amid the creatures arms, and before either Steve or Grace could react, Danny was lying sprawled on the ground, unmoving.

A strangled, half-whispered "no" tumbled past Steve's lips, as he dropped to his knees next to his friend, Grace's frenzied calls of her father's name ringing heavily in the murky air. Trembling fingers reached for the pale neck, and the former SEAL sagged backward on his heels, dizzy with relief.

"He's okay," he rasped, looking up into Grace's fear-blown eyes. "Unconscious, but he's okay."

Rising shakily back to his feet, Steve locked gazes with the closest of the creatures, swallowing down his apprehension as a pair of cold, murky eyes dove into his.

"This is a mistake," he asserted, forcing to keep his voice steady, almost sure that the creature could hear the wild hammering of his heart. "They're not supposed to be here. **I'm **the one that–" He stopped, daring to tear his gaze away for a moment to look at the tear-smudged face of Danny's little girl. "It's a mistake," he repeated stubbornly, once again meeting the emotionless, clouded eyes. "You know it is. You **have** to know."

The creature narrowed its eyes at that, and Steve forced himself not to flinch. "Release them," he pleaded, his voice soft but firm. "Please."

Wordlessly, the creature turned its head toward its companions, exchanging silent nods. "You will await our decision," it said finally, and with a wave of a smoke-colored sleeve the garden and the creatures vanished, replaced by a cold, semi-dark room with a tiny slit of a window in a damp brick wall.

* * *

TBC

_Well, what do you think? Have I lost half the audience? Let me know._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N **Eurgh, I've been terrible with responses for the reviews for the last chapter. I sincerely apologize for my lack of responses. I read all of your wonderful comments, and I am grateful to all of you for your kindness and your patience. RL is once again trying to drive me insane, and here I am at 3 in the morning trying to at least finish up another chapter, before I get slammed with a new project. I will try to go through your reviews and respond, but if I don't, please know that I appreciate your comments and that they truly do make my day (yeah, I'm pretty easy to please).

I will respond here to one comment that seemed to have come up quite a few times. Some of you have wondered whether Danny and Grace are in that strange world with Steve or if Steve is just in a come (or something like it) and is dreaming that all of this is happening to them. I believe that you will find an answer to that question if you read the little blurb/summary of the story under the title. I don't want to say more for fear of giving away the plot, you understand.

Once again, thank you for your amazing support and for giving this story a chance. This chapter sheds some light on the mysterious Flower, and I hope that you will be able to accept the fact that this is the fantasy part of the story and that I did write it at an ungodly hour after spending a few sleepless nights finishing up my projects, and that you will take that into account and won't judge too harshly :)

I'll be looking forward to your thoughts and comments.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Steve shifted awkwardly in a vain attempt to relieve his painfully cramping muscles, a violent shiver running through his body, as his back broke contact with the damp wall for a brief second, allowing the cool musky air of their stone dungeon full access to his soaked-through undershirt. A soft whimper reached his ears, and he looked down worriedly at a dark-haired tangle of limbs and fabric that lay curled on the straw-covered floor, her tear-stained cheek cushioned on Steve's left leg.

Grace had been hysterical. Alternating between pleading with her still stubbornly unconscious father to wake up and bawling uncontrollably against Steve's chest, hiccupping out jumbled "I wanna go home's", she had finally fallen into a fitful, exhausted sleep.

Steve reached down, gently smoothing his hand over the tousled pigtails. She whimpered again, burying her face deeper into Steve's blue shirt that was wrapped around her shoulders – the only real, tangible comfort, other than tight, if slightly awkward, embraces and empty reassurances, he had been able to offer her in this damp prison. He tucked the shirt closer around her small form, leaving his hand resting protectively on her shoulder, as he let his gaze travel to the motionless figure of his friend, willing for him to wake up and trying in vain to tamp down the worry that gnawed at his gut. He'd done all he could to make Danny comfortable, gathering up whatever straw that was left after he made Grace's "bed" to create a cocoon for his partner, shielding him from the bone-chilling cold. He could do without, he assured Grace, when she expressed her worry about him sitting on a bare stone floor; he's a SEAL, after all, he could handle worse. And even though he had to clamp down his teeth to keep them from chattering out a drum solo, he felt it was worth it. So long as he had hope that his friends would be okay. Yet with every passing minute Danny's obstinate refusal to show any signs of waking pushed that hope deeper and deeper into the back recesses of his mind, until all but a faintly glowing spark remained.

There was suddenly a shift in the air beside him, a glacial touch on his shoulder, and it took all of Steve's training to keep himself from jumping and throwing Grace off. Grinding his teeth together, he turned, glaring at the gray-robed creature that seemingly wove itself out of thin air.

"Come," the creature spoke in a voice that brooked no argument. "We are ready for you."

"What about my friends?" he countered, hesitant to leave them alone and vulnerable.

"Come," the creature repeated, ignoring his question, and Steve sighed in resignation, gently lifting Grace's head up and off his leg and carefully setting her down onto the straw bedding. Satisfied that she was still blissfully asleep, he pushed himself up slowly, stretching out his numb, frozen limbs. Glancing once more into the emotionless, murky eyes that bored into his, he was about to once again inquire about his friends, when the creature reached for him again, and then the brick walls disappeared in a nauseating whirlwind of white lights.

When the world finally stopped spinning, he looked around cautiously, finding himself back in the garden in the middle of an enormous flowerbed, surrounded by the same four grim-looking beings.

"We have considered your request, Steve McGarrett," a voice from stated, and he turned to face that creature, holding his breath in anticipation. "You are correct. We try to be vigilant, but sometimes mistakes do happen and wrong humans get stuck on the Plane. Your friends should not have been here with you."

Steve closed his eyes briefly in relief, blurting out a hurried, "Let them go then, please."

A slow shake of the hooded head was his response, and Steve felt despair creep right back into his soul.

"We cannot."

"Why?" he croaked out. "What's stopping you from-?"

"She plucked the flower," the creature explained, unperturbed. "The Gate is now closed."

"I don't unders-"

"We are Guardians of the Plane, a temporary realm between life and death," another being chimed in, its face as impassive as the those of its colleagues. "All humans pass through here at one point or another. Some go through quickly, others linger; a few get sent back. Our job is to ensure they are prepared for their passage."

Scrubbing a hand down his face, the former SEAL shook his head, splaying his arms out to the sides in confusion. "I still don't see why you can't send them back. You said yourself they don't belong in here!"

The creatures, Guardians, glanced at each other in silent communication, and he clenched his fists tightly at his sides to keep his frustration at bay.

"Every thousand years, the oldest of the Guardians goes out to this field here to die," the creature continued in the same phlegmatic voice. "A new flower is born out of his death, and a new Guardian is sent to replace him."

"A new flower...," Steve mumbled, his gaze dropping down to the multi-colored carpet of blossoms spread out at his feet. "So all this-?"

"Former Guardians, yes."

"And the one that Grace picked? What's so special about it?"

The second Guardian looked away for a moment, his clouded eyes seemingly focusing on some random point in the distance beyond the forest.

"The Crimson Flower was planted by the First One," he said finally, his voice faraway, hollow. "There weren't many rules back when the First One was Guardian. The Gate existed only between our realm, the Plane, and the realm of death. There was no passage back for mortals." The Guardian fell silent again, gazing at his colleagues as if seeking their approval.

"Then one day this woman appeared on the Plane. She was young, and beautiful, and kind. The First Guardian fell in love."

Steve frowned at that, his brows arching in disbelief. "I didn't realize you, people, were capable of that," he murmured, staring appraisingly at the cold, emotionless features of the creatures before him.

Four pairs of murky eyes glared at him in silent condemnation. "We are not allowed ... anymore," another Guardian cut in. "After the First."

"What happened?" McGarrett asked, genuinely curious.

"The First didn't want to let her go," the creature explained with a disapproving shake of its head. "Couldn't bear the thought of her dying. He pleaded with his Superiors to release her, but was denied. Her blood was already spilled on the mortal plane to secure her passage to the realm of death, they told him, and since there **was** no return Gate to the human world, the only way to release her would also be through blood."

"The First decided to give his own blood then to release her," the fourth Guardian continued. "He came out here to the field and ran himself through with a sword."

"Did it work?" Steve licked his lips in nervous anticipation, as his heart pounded wildly at the implication. "Was he able to release her?"

The Guardian nodded reluctantly. "The Gate was opened, but she refused to go. She told him she couldn't leave knowing the sacrifice that he had made for her. She stayed by his side, comforting him as he lay dying in her arms, and then she used his sword on herself."

"The Crimson Flower grew on that spot," added the first of the creatures, "and it became forever linked with the Gate to the mortal world. The sacrifice of the First One gave all who came after the ability to return home those, who did not belong, who came here by mistake."

"And when Grace picked it...," Steve trailed off, the realization – a cruel punch in the gut.

"She cut off the link," the Guardian nodded, confirming his worst fear. "The Gate is closed now. We cannot send them back."

Steve nodded mechanically, his body numb with horror. _He let them down. He let his friends down - the two people who meant everything to him in this world or any other. He should have done something. Watched Gracie closer. Kept her from taking that cursed flower. "Her blood is ours now." Such horrible words. He never should have allowed for that to happen. He should have... _His frantic thoughts broke off suddenly, as an idea – as desperate as it was insane – began to form in his mind. _This might... this might just work..._

Swallowing convulsively past a sandpaper dry throat, Steve raised his head, meeting four cold, listless gazes. "Will... will the Gate reopen if there is another sacrifice?" he asked hoarsely, searching their impassive faces for an answer.

"The Guardians are forbidden from performing such actions," the second creature responded sharply. "Ever since the First–"

"I wasn't talking about you," Steve cut him off impatiently, ignoring the angry darkening of the creature's normally pale eyes.

"You are a mere mortal," the fourth Guardian scoffed. "What could your blood possibly offer this Plane?"

"Well, I'm still stuck here, aren't I?" he retorted defiantly, unwilling to flinch back even as the four figures advanced threateningly upon him. "That must count for something. When Grace picked that flower, you said you'll be taking her blood. I'm assuming you're not planning on drinking it, so it must be for the Gate. Am I right?"

The creatures glanced at each other again, their silence taut, uneasy. "She is an innocent," the third Guardian admitted finally. "Her blood might be able to restore the link."

Steve nearly choked at that, grateful for the fact that Danny wasn't here to listen to them talk about sacrificing his daughter. The blond wouldn't have been able to contain himself, and that most likely would have gotten him killed. As it were, Steve was having a hard time controlling his emotions himself.

"It wouldn't be a sacrifice, though," he ground out, fighting to keep his voice level. "And I don't think a slaughter of an innocent child would earn you many points with your _Superiors_." He took a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves before continuing. "I offer you a willing sacrifice: my blood for the release of both my friends."

The second Guardian shook his head. "We cannot be sure that it will work. Unlike your friends, you have been brought to the Plane for a reason. Unlike theirs, your return was never a guarantee."

"I know that," Steve nodded sharply, a feeling of certainty about his plan now almost overwhelming. "But that makes me no different than that woman you were telling me about in your story. And I'm willing to be that her blood had as much to do with creating that link as the blood of the First One." He waited, watching their pale-gray eyes for any reaction.

"He is right, you know," the first Guardian confirmed finally, sharing a long, somber look with his colleagues. "Her blood did make a difference. Without it the link might not have been solidified."

Their murky gazes once again turned to Steve, sharp, probing. "You are sure of what you are offering, Steve McGarrett?" the first Guardian inquired, cocking his head to the side, as if it somehow provided him a better perspective on the strange mortal before him. "Your soul would be forever stuck on this plane between the two worlds, never able to cross over, never able to find peace."

A small, bitter smile twisted the pale lips at the ridiculousness of the question. _Was he sure? He had never been more sure of anything in his entire life. _

Squaring his shoulders before them, he gave another sharp nod. "I am," he responded simply, and submitted himself to his chosen fate.

* * *

TBC

So, next comes the ... (well, I'm not gonna tell you - don't want to give away the story, but I'd love to hear what you think) Please? :)


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N** First off, I just have to say, the last two H50 episodes were absolutely awesome! **(Spoiler alert!)** Last week we had yet another nod to Indiana Jones and the Legend of the Lost Ark with an unimpressed McGarrett calmly shooting the guy swinging a blade at him (granted, he didn't kill him like Indy did, and the blade was much smaller - but the resemblance was still there :-)). And tonight - the "man-date" and the "three-way bromance" (LOL, I'm starting to really like Catherine); Steve blowing off Catherine for Danny and Danny blowing off the game for Steve (this, to me, was, by far, the cutest bromance episode). Oh, and, of course, how can I forget the hurt! Steve (drool...)

Khm... yes... well, now that I'm done ranting and drooling :) Here's (finally!) the next chapter. Took me a bit longer (life interferes), but I hope you like the result. I think some of your questions might be answered here. But maybe it'll just get you more confused (hmm...) Whatever the case, I do hope to hear from you.

Again, I thank you for all those awesome reviews and a special thank you to guests! You, guys, rock!

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**Chapter 4**

"My friends?" Steve asked, his voice husky with tension, as the four beings formed an arm's length circle around him.

"They are being released as we speak," the Guardian facing him assured. "Once the Gate reopens, we will assist them with their passage."

Steve nodded, running a tongue nervously across his lips. "Thank you."

The pale murky eyes narrowed inquisitively. "You wish to give them a message?"

"I don't...," he shrugged helplessly, suddenly uncertain, "no. I just... uh... Danny, he'll be ... he'll blame himself." He ran his hand jerkily through his hair, trying to put his jumbled thoughts in some semblance of order. "But it was my decision. My choice. I need him to know that ... I need... he and Grace – they are the closest thing to a real family I got, and I'll do anything to... I... I did it, when we were driving. I'm doing now. I'll do it again, as long as it takes. I need him to know that. Please...," he repeated softly, flicking his gaze beyond the flowing gray robes toward the castle. "Tell him it was my choice."

The being regarded him silently for a moment before tilting its head forward slightly in a gesture of consent.

"Thank you," Steve breathed out, throwing one last look at the imposing facade of the castle, where he could now clearly see two familiar figures silhouetted against the white stone. "I'm ready," he stated, the feeling of calm resolve once again settling firmly in his chest.

The Guardian nodded calmly and reached into the folds of his robe, pulling out a fistful of crumpled red petals. _"From the Crimson Flower," _Steve realized with a start.

The hand rose sharply, throwing the petals high in the air, and Steve watched, mesmerized, as the delicate red shapes swirled above him in a mournful, farewell dance, before falling inexorably down toward the earth.

He flinched, startled, as the very first petal made contact with his skin, scraping sharply against his cheek. Touching the now stinging area gingerly with his fingertips, he was surprised to find them covered in blood. Frowning in confusion, he looked up once again and found himself squeezing his eyes firmly shut, as the remaining petals descended on him in a dizzying whirlwind of red, slicing like glass shards into his unprotected skin. By the time the last petal landed on the moist, dew-covered grass, Steve's face, neck, shoulders, and arms were crisscrossed with thin jagged lines of bright crimson.

Blinking away the blood-filled haze, he swallowed harshly against a suddenly overwhelming sense déjà vu – the same sharp, stinging sensation he remembered from before. _The broken windshield. The shards of glass..._

The Guardian raised his hand again, a pale open palm facing the sky, as if waiting for something. He didn't have to wait long. A thin swirl of smoke appeared above the open palm, growing, stretching, extending; the shape gradually losing its transparency, solidifying, its surface becoming smooth, polished. And soon Steve found himself looking at a short, wide-bladed sword, its flawless deadly beauty glistening in the dim light that filtered through the storm clouds that were still present, though gradually melting away.

He knew what was coming, and so he closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath, readying himself for the pain. It came swiftly, sharp, breath-robbing, and hauntingly familiar, cutting brutally into his abdomen and driving him, dazed and breathless, to his knees.

H50- H50- H50- H50- H50

Danny came to with a start, bolting upright and glancing wildly around him; eyes widening in confusion and apprehension at the unfamiliar surroundings. "Grace," he called out desperately, as memories came rushing in, cruel and terrifying. "Grace!" and he nearly choked with relief, when a loudly sobbed out "Danno" carried to him from across the dimly-lit room, and a Grace-shaped projectile slammed into him full force, nearly knocking back down onto the ground.

"Sweetheart, you're alright," he whispered breathlessly, as he held her tight against him, paying no heed to the coarse pieces of straw that got tangled in her disheveled hair and were now digging uncomfortably into his cheek. "Oh, thank God!" His little girl was safe, and the horrible nightmare, the heart-shattering agony of loss that accompanied him into his forced oblivion was now pushed back, allowing him the sweet bliss of relief.

Nothing lasts forever, though, and his relief was just as short-lived and ephemeral as the tiny flicker of sunlight on a hopelessly cloudy day.

"Uncle Steve," Grace whispered brokenly into the crook of his neck, "I think those things took him."

And, dammit, if Danny didn't just now become aware that his daughter had Steve's blue overshirt wrapped tightly, almost desperately, around her shaking form, and that Steve himself was nowhere to be seen.

"Things?" he asked cautiously, as he pulled back a bit, trying to catch her gaze and feeling his heart speed up in growing worry at the look of mixed fear and anguish on her tear-stained face. "What things, Monkey?"

"Those scary ones that came from the smoke," Grace clarified, sniffling sharply. "I fell asleep on Uncle Steve's leg. And when I woke up, he was just... gone."

"Maybe he just walked out for a moment," Danny ventured hopefully, casting another look at the four brick walls that surrounded them, searching for any sign of a door that Steve might have used to get outside. Grace's next words only served to confirm the harsh truth his eyes were telling him.

"But, Danno, there aren't any doors here. I already looked. He couldn't have walked out. He just," she sniffled again, louder this time, "disappeared..."

Swallowing past a sudden lump of apprehension, Danny shrugged, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, "I'm sure he's fine, Monkey. People don't just disappear. There's probably a secret door here somewhere that we can't see, and your uncle Steve, being the Super SEAL that he is, must have found it." He nodded with conviction at his own words, because there could **be **no other explanation, because people don't just disappear from a room, where the only visible exit point is a tiny slit – not even wide enough for Gracie to fit through – in a massive brick wall some 10 feet above the floor. "I bet he's out there right now doing his crazy ninja stuff to get us out of here," he predicted jokingly. _If he had only known..._

A gust of wind, sudden and suffocatingly strong, tore through their enclosed space, and then the walls were gone – vanished into thin air, as though they had all but dreamed them in the first place. They found themselves standing on the perfectly smooth brick path leading from the castle to the gardens – those same cursed gardens Danny wished they had never set their eyes upon. Keeping a near death grip on Grace's hand, he let his gaze travel across the gradually brightening landscape before them, his eyes widening in a mixture of relief and alarm, when he spotted a group of four gray-robed fiends (and Danny didn't even register his free hand curling into a tight fist at the sight of them) standing around the tall familiar figure of his friend.

_So he was right. Steve __**had **__gotten out somehow. And it did look like he was negotiating with these smoky bastards, and he seemed okay. _Danny paused mid-thought, taking a few steps forward and peering closer at Steve's face. The faint inkling of alarm grew exponentially, as his eyes were able to discern bright rivulets of blood that ran down the otherwise pale cheeks.

He was about to call out, when the creature facing Steve raised its hand suddenly above its head, and the words froze in his throat, as Danny watched, inexplicably spellbound, as some strange shape began to weave itself out of the very air above the raised palm. Lips parted in disbelief, eyes blown wide with fear, he watched, as the shape morphed into a steel weapon, the unmistakable glint of a blade bright and menacing against the peaceful silence of the gardens.

"Danno?" Grace's careful tug on his arm brought the Jersey native out of his trance, and he rocked forward suddenly, releasing her hand, even as the blade began its ruthless descent toward his friend's calmly unresisting form.

"STEVE, NO!" he cried out hoarsely, his feet pounding the brick-laid path, desperately trying to make it there on time and knowing that he was already too late.

"No," he whispered, horrified, dropping to his knees before the small group, trembling hands reaching for the jackknifed, broken figure in its midst. "God, Steven, what have you done?"

A gray-robed shape moved into his line of vision, momentarily blocking his view of Steve. "The Gate is now open, Daniel Williams," it announced somberly. "You and your daughter are free to go."

"Go?" he looked up at that, blinking uncomprehendingly at the impassive face above him. "What does that- ... what are you talking about?"

"Your friend replanted the Crimson Flower. The link your daughter severed has now been restored," the creature explained, pointing behind it at the bleeding, wobbly figure that stood kneeling on damp, blood-covered grass. "You need to leave."

"Leave?" he echoed again, shaking his head in vehement refusal. "You- ... you just ran my partner through with a freaking sword! And you want me to **leave**?!" Gaining strength from the onslaught of stifling rage, Danny jumped back to his feet, glaring daggers at the murky-eyed creature. "There's no way in **HELL** I'm leaving here, while my partner is bleeding to death all over your precious flowers," he growled menacingly, fists clenching and unclenching convulsively at his sides. "I don't care if you do that knockout voodoo thing you used on me before. I think I still have a pretty good chance of wringing your neck – or whatever it is you've got there underneath that hood of yours – before that happens."

"Danny..." the quiet, rasped out sound of his name drew him up short, and he looked down past the creature, meeting the calm, pain-filled gaze of the dark-blue eyes. One blood-stained hand clasped lightly around the exquisitely decorated hilt that protruded grotesquely from his abdomen, another -digging savagely into the ground before him, his partner forced his trembling body upright, gasping out raggedly, "Go, Danny... You and Grace... you need to... you're not supposed to... be here..."

Swallowing harshly in the face of his friend's obvious struggle, Danny took a hesitant step toward him, unsurprised to have his progression halted once again by a gray-sleeved hand. "I'm not leaving you behind with these overgrown poltergeists , McGarrett," he ground out, hoping the scowl on his face conveyed to his crazy SEAL of a partner just what he thought of the idea.

Steve smiled weakly at him – a soft, resigned smile, the dark blue eyes filming over with something oddly resembling regret. "This isn't... real... Danny," he managed feebly, swaying dangerously on his knees, his other hand flopping limply onto the ground in a last-ditch effort to steady himself.

Danny frowned at that, watching his friend with an ever-growing sense of apprehension. "What do you... what are you saying?" he mumbled, trying to tear away from the restraining hand on his shoulder. "Steve?"

The former SEAL gave a tiny shake of his head, gulping convulsively for air, his arms trembling with the strain of holding himself upright. "Think, Danny...," the breathed out words barely carried to the Jersey native across the small distance, as Steve dropped his head, no longer having the strength to hold it up. "What's the... last ... thing you... remember...?"

Danny blinked stupidly, his mind churning over Steve's words despite himself. And suddenly the scene before him began to shift; the castle, the garden, the crumpled bleeding form of his friend – all gradually coating over with a strange, ephemeral haze. The images growing fainter, fainter...

"Come on," the ghostly gray-robed hand squeezed his shoulder, pulling him gently toward a spinning whirlpool of silver that shone bright and inviting only an arm's length away. "I'll help you through."

Sunlight flooded in on him – sharp and brutal, making him wince. _Why was it so bright all of a sudden?_ He stared unblinking through the mysteriously absent windshield – _was he in a car? was that __**his **__car? _–at the flashing red and blue lights.

There was a loud creak to his right, and Danny turned swiftly, wincing at a sharp pain that ripped through his neck and right shoulder at the movement. A car door – _and, yes, it was definitely his car door _– was pulled open and a blue-clothed hand reached toward him, gently clasping his upper arm. "Come on, sir. Let's get you out of here. I'll help you through."

_What the hell was going on?_

* * *

TBC

Would love to hear your thoughts. (pretty please?)


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Well, I tried to get the chapter done by the end of the week, so here it is. I fear I might need my flak jacket back for this one, but I'll bite the bullet and wait (impatiently) for your input.**

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**Chapter 5**

Two sets of hands pulled him gently out of the car, steadying him, when he swayed during his very first attempt at standing on his own two feet. "Easy, Detective, we got you."

"You know me?" he frowned, confused, at the vaguely familiar face that hovered above him.

"We've met before, Detective," one of the men – a paramedic, and yeah, Danny finally did remember seeing this guy before, on numerous occasion, in fact – responded with a patient smile, guiding him carefully over to an awaiting gurney. "You and your partner tend to keep us busy."

Danny nodded, blinking owlishly at the chaotic scene before him: a couple of police cruisers, a fire truck, an ambulance, a Medevac helicopter, a semi-frantic rush of uniformed figures, and off to the side, behind the line of rescue vehicles – a small group of civilians in gaudy Hawaiian-themed shirts – _tourists_. Memories – vivid and disjointed – flashed into his still fuzzy consciousness: the car, the malfunctioning brakes, the tour bus, the crash...

"There were others in the car with me," he gasped out, turning a desperate, frantic gaze back to the EMT. "My-"

"Your daughter has already been taken care of," the man assured him. "She's waiting for you in the ambulance, as we speak. And once we get you settled, you'll both be going to Queens to get checked out."

Danny nodded again, breathing out a small sigh of relief, even as he scanned the back of the ambulance for visual reassurance. He spotted her finally, his worry blossoming once again at the sight of a cervical collar that was wrapped around her neck. "Why is she wearing that?"

"Just a precaution," the EMT hurried to reassure him, pushing him gently down onto the gurney. "With a high velocity collision like that, we want to be extra careful." He pulled out another collar, carefully wrapping it around Danny's own neck. "We'll be taking you both to Queens to get checked out, as soon as you are settled."

Danny let himself be guided down onto cart, anxiously raking his gaze over his daughter's frame, even as the paramedic continued in a more subdued, cautious voice: "They are working on getting your partner out right now."

He dared a glance back at the Camaro and immediately wished he hadn't. His car, his beautiful, sleek-shaped car looked like a grotesquely misshapen silver heap of metal. A team of six firemen worked with undisguised urgency, cutting forcefully into the smashed driver's side – _Steve's side_, straining to peel away the mangled pieces.

Feeling bile rise up in his throat, Danny pushed himself up and away from the gurney, ignoring the EMT's rather loud protests, and stumbled shakily toward the crippled Camaro. One of the rescuers momentarily shifted his position in front of the broken windshield, and Danny caught a glimpse of a familiar ashen face streaked with bright trails of crimson.

"Detective, please," the paramedic's hand was once again gripping his uninjured shoulder, pulling him back. "You really need to get going."

"Is he..." Danny swallowed convulsively, struggling weakly against the pull, "is he alive?"

"He **was** when we first got here," came another irritatingly cautious response. "We have the Medevac on standby. As soon as Commander McGarrett is clear of the vehicle, they'll be airlifting him to the hospital." The tug on his shoulder became stronger, more insistent. "Please, Detective."

Numb with fear and worry, he let himself be led back to the ambulance, and was about to sit down, when a snippet of conversation caught his ear.

"I don't know, Officer. The way that fella was driving. Fishtailing all over the road... I'm willing to bet he was either drunk or high on something. Another second and he would have rammed us, no doubt about it."

Rage pulsed hot in his ears, as Danny whirled, the pale blue eyes zeroing in on a middle-aged pot-bellied man with a thick southern drawl, who was shaking his head at the policeman before him with an air of puffed importance, clearly disagreeing with whatever it was the latter was telling him.

"He wasn't drunk!" the Jersey native growled menacingly, taking a purposeful step in the man's direction and forcing the suddenly blanched tourist to slip hurriedly behind the very officer he was arguing with earlier. "He was trying to save your life, you moron!"

"He wasn't drunk," he mumbled again, quieter this time, as the EMT gently pulled him back, finally succeeding in pushing him onto the gurney.

"They'll take your statement, Detective. Don't worry." The paramedic's strained but gentle voice accompanied him into the semi-darkness of the ambulance.

H50- H50- H50- H50- H50

"Hey, brah, howzit?" Kono slipped cautiously, almost hesitantly, into the room, and Danny pushed himself up in bed, wincing at both the uncomfortable pull in his bandaged shoulder and the forced cheerfulness of the rookie's smile.

"You mean apart from having a major headache, a broken clavicle, and being stuck in this bed for an indefinite period of time?"

Kono shook her head in feigned amusement. "From what I've seen of your car, brah, you're lucky that's all you've got."

"Yeah, well, you'll forgive me if I don't feel very lucky at the moment. They wouldn't even let me out of here long enough to visit my little girl, Kono," he exclaimed, frustration seeping into his voice, his uninjured hand slicing wildly through the air before flopping back onto the crumpled white sheets. "She's only a few doors down, and Rachel has to call me and update me on her condition. Can you believe that?"

"Grace is alright, though," the young woman assured, as she slid fluidly into a bedside chair. "I stopped by there earlier. They are keeping her overnight for observation, but other than some bad bruising..."

"Yeah, I know, she got off easy. Same as Steve," Danny bit out, his attempt at sarcasm failing miserably, as his voice broke traitorously over the words. Hand tightening into a fist, as he fought for control over his flailing emotions, he huffed out bitterly, "Actually, no, check that. I **don't **know if Steve got off easy. I don't even know if he was alive long enough to make it to the hospital. Not like anybody's been in a rush to tell me anything."

"I don't think there's been any news yet," Kono supplied quietly in a feeble attempt at soothing him. "Last I checked, he was still in surgery."

"Last I **saw**, they were cutting him out of the goddamned car..."

Kono's smooth face darkened, the tense smile dissolving into a worried frown. "What happened over there, Danny?"

He knew the question was coming. Knew it. And yet it still managed to catch him unprepared. Swallowing harshly, as his mind poured once again over the events leading up to the crash, Danny turned his gaze to the window, staring out into the gathering darkness. "The brakes," he said hoarsely, his mouth twisting in something akin to disgust. "The goddamned brakes failed."

"All at once?" she gasped, disbelieving, and all he could do was nod weakly in affirmation.

"Steve tried to slow it down, but we were going downhill... nothing worked." Danny squeezed his eyes shut, the fingers of his left hand viciously twisting the white fabric that lay underneath. "He was gonna... he was gonna try to lose some speed going up to and through the tunnel. But this bus... the freaking tour bus broke down in the middle of the road!" The pale blue eyes flew open, glistening with unshed tears, as he turned his gaze toward her, pained and desperate. "There **had** to be something, right?" he scoffed, his voice drowning in anguish. "'Cause nothing **ever** goes the way it's supposed to when McGarett's involved."

Kono's hand, warm and trembling, curled gently around his. "So he swerved and-"

"No," Danny shook his head bitterly, cutting her off. "That's the thing. He didn't just **swerve**. He **calculated**; aimed for that bloody tree. He got that crazy look on his face right before. I guess the bastard figured that if he's the only one smashed to smithereens everything will be just hunky-dory."

"Danny..."

"He doesn't get to do that, Kono," he cried out, voice breaking into a hoarse, pathetic whisper. "He doesn't get to make that decision."

The pressure on his arm became stronger, the rookie's lips quivering into a wobbly smile. "I don't think he saw it that way," she objected softly, swallowing back her own gnawing worry. "He had all these civilians in the way; he had you and Grace in the car..." Kono trailed off, as though certain that no further explanations were required.

She was right, too. Because it was Steve, they were talking about. Who wouldn't think twice about running headlong into a dangerous situation if it meant saving innocent lives. Who wouldn't hesitate ... **hasn't** hesitated to do whatever it takes when it came to people he cared about. Including falling on his own sword. _Sword..._

The sudden gruesome reminder of the all-too-vivid dream (or whatever the hell it was) felt like a vicious kick in the chest, and the blond gulped convulsively for the suddenly non-existent air, prompting Kono's worried, "Danny?"

Digging his teeth savagely into his bottom lip to give himself back at least some modicum of control, he ground out, "I need you to check on something for me."

"Sure," she nodded eagerly, her hand never leaving Danny's. "Anything you need, brah."

"The mechanic that fixed my car... James Martin, I think... can you look into him?"

"What are you thinking?"

The tightly fisted hand relaxed a small fraction, Danny's face taking on a pinched, angry look. "Something Steve said about it being too strange of a coincidence that a guy scraping my car in the parking lot also happens to be the one to fix it." His frown deepened, pale blue eyes watching his colleague expectantly. "I just... I think it might be a good idea to–"

"We'll look into him," Kono assured, giving him another tense smile, and she patted him gently on the arm, before standing back up. "I'll go see if Chin heard any news on Steve yet. See you in a bit, brah."

H50- H50- H50- H50- H50

It was another ten minutes before Kono popped briefly back into his room to gloomily tell him that Steve was still – **still** – in surgery.

It was another thirty before his life turned from a nightmarish dream into a living hell, as an exhausted, grim-looking doctor pushed open the door to Danny's room with a quiet "Mr. Williams? I have you listed as Commander McGarrett's next of kin."

"I'm–" the blond licked his lips nervously, pulling himself up straighter, throat suddenly as dry as the sands of the Sahara desert. "H-how is he?"

The doctor shook his head, regret staining his features. "The Commander made it through surgery, but his prognosis is ... not good, I'm afraid. The abdominal injuries the Commander suffered in the crash were just too severe. Coupled with a rather serious concussion..." The man took a deep breath, scrubbing a tired hand down his face. "Commander McGarrett slipped into a coma following surgery," he finished morosely, looking into the panic-stricken pale blue eyes.

"But... but he's gonna come out of it, right?" Danny mumbled, shaking his head in mute denial. "Tell me he's gonna come out of it!"

"I'm sorry," the doctor breathed out hoarsely, "but other than making him comfortable, there isn't much else we can do at this point." Placing his hand back on the door handle, he added, "You'll be able to visit with him, once you are cleared to leave, Detective. And I would recommend contacting the Commander's family as soon as possible. I'm afraid he doesn't have much time left."

The doctor walked out, and the room was plunged once again into a tense, crackling silence that was suddenly broken by a desperate, choked out sob. It took Danny's horror-numbed mind a moment to realize the sound was coming from him.

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TBC

So, uhm, I'm gonna go hide behind this large boulder and wait for your comments


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N** I'm so sorry for the late posting and for not responding to your amazing comments. Other than pure mental and physical exhaustion, I cannot plead any other excuse. I hope things will improve on that count.

Here's (finally!) the next chapter. Not much action, just more angst. Hope you enjoy it. And, please, do let me know your thoughts. I will try my best to respond.

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**Chapter 6**

"Detective, please," the young dark-haired nurse, Ileina, held her hands out toward him in a placating gesture, standing close enough to be able to physically push him back into bed had she wanted to do so. "I need you to lie back down."

Lips thinned mulishly, eyes blazing with stubborn determination, Danny shook his head an emphatic no. "There's no way I'm getting back in bed," he all but growled, already fed up with the futile back and forth the two of them have been engaged in over the past five minutes. "What I **am **going to do is see my daughter and my partner."

"I cannot allow you to do that, sir" Ileina objected, letting out a heavy sigh – a testament to her own aggravation with this exchange. "The doctor hasn't cleared you to leave yet."

"And what's stopping him?" Danny challenged, his nostrils flaring.

The nurse gave him a pointed look, raising her right eyebrow in perfect imitation of Mr. Spock. "Concussion and broken clavicle notwithstanding?"

"Great," the blond rolled his eyes, leaning tiredly against the bed. "A nurse **and **a comedian."

"Look, Detective," Ileina took a small hesitant step toward him, her resolute features softening to sympathetic understanding, "I know you are anxious to leave, but I cannot allow it until you have been okayed to do so." She paused, once more gesturing to the bed behind him, "You are exhausted, sir. You shouldn't even be up on your feet. Please."

Danny closed his eyes briefly, running a trembling hand through his tousled blond mop of hair. "Get me a wheelchair," he said finally, leveling her with a hard, determined stare.

The young woman hesitated, her expression uncertain, and Danny added quietly but with a kind of deadly certainty reserved mostly for interrogation rooms, "Unless you are prepared to knock me out and cuff me to bed, you should know that I **am** going to go see them. **Now**. So, if you want me off my feet, I suggest you get me a wheelchair."

H50- H50- H50- H50- H50

Some twenty minutes later Ileina pulled the wheelchair to a stop in front of a room on a pediatric floor. "Five minutes, Detective," she warned, though not unkindly, as she quietly pushed the door open and rolled him inside.

The room's occupants were fast asleep, the little girl settled comfortably amid the crisp white sheets, her dark hair strewn about on the pillow. Her mother was dozing in the chair beside her, half-sitting, half-leaning on the bed, one hand wrapped tightly around the girl's smaller one.

"Five minutes," the nurse reminded him again, pushing him closer, "and I'll be right outside if you need me earlier."

Danny nodded absently, barely acknowledging her words. Eyes roaming hungrily over his daughter's sleeping form, he reached his good arm toward her, running his fingers shakily down the side of her face. The nurse left, and he remained where he was, fingers resting gently against his daughter's cheek. "It's going to be alright, Sweetheart," he whispered, lips tightening with poorly veiled worry. "It's all going to be alright."

"Danny?"

He turned, meeting his ex-wife's bleary gaze, as she lifted her head up off the bed, blinking sleepily up at him. "Hey, Rach," he acknowledged her hoarsely, "sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, no, it's okay," she shook her head slowly, straightening herself out in the chair and wincing slightly as she did so. "I think I've been sitting in the same position for too long," she added with a ruefully apologetic smile. "Might be a good idea for me to stretch a bit."

"Her neck," Danny whispered nervously, diverting his attention back to Grace, "is she... is everything going to be alright?"

"The doctor seems to thinks so," Rachel confirmed, giving him a tremulous smile. "He'll be coming to check on her again in the morning, and he is hopeful that she'll be able to go home tomorrow."

"Thank god," he let his head drop weakly onto his chest, a breath of relief slipping past the pale lips

Rachel's dark eyes slid worriedly from his bruised face to the white strip of fabric that held his sling firmly in place. "How are **you** doing?"

The genuine concern in her voice, so uncharacteristic of their relationship in the past few years, had him look up in confusion, frowning at her anxious, expectant expression.

"I'm... I'm okay," he mumbled finally, shrugging awkwardly with one shoulder. "I didn't get the worst of it either." He let the sentence hang, hoping Rachel would let it rest there as well.

But Rachel was too good at picking up on the unspoken, always has been. And she was even better at reading him. She wasn't about to let it drop.

"Commander McGarrett?"

He should have expected the question. _Should have_. But, _damnit_, it was still powerful enough to drive all air out of his lungs in a single brutal blow.

Danny let his gaze drop again, swallowing down the despair that threatened to overwhelm him. "He... uh... he's in a coma," his voice cut out, tumbling into a hoarse whisper. "They don't think he's gonna make it."

"Oh, Daniel, I'm so sorry..."

He nodded, even that simple movement suddenly uncomfortable, as his throat constricted painfully, stiflingly.

There was a scrape of the chair across the floor, Rachel moving to get up, and he shook his head emphatically, forestalling her movement.

"I'm... gonna go... stay with him until...," he trailed off, unable, nay, unwilling to finish that sentence.

"Of course," Rachel's voice was so uncharacteristically compassionate, so soft that Danny had a sudden, overpowering urge to cry. Her very next words had him squeeze his eyes shut against the prickling moisture. "I'll stop by with Grace tomorrow before we leave."

"Thank you," he managed chokingly, giving her a grateful, if shaky, smile, even as he turned the wheelchair back toward the door.

"Daniel," Rachel's call caught him with his hand above the door handle, and he turned slightly, throwing her a questioning glance. "The Commander... Steve ... is a very resilient man," the Brit continued quietly, making sure to catch his pain-filled gaze. "If someone can recover from this... he can. I'll pray that he does."

H50- H50- H50- H50- H50

Nurse Ileina wasn't happy, to say the least, when Danny informed her of his plans. Yet he was adamant, insisting that if he were not allowed to stay at his partner's side for as long as it takes, he would sign himself out of the hospital AMA and stay there anyway, cuffing himself to bed if need be. In the end Ileina shook her head in tired surrender, made him swear he'd submit to regular check-ups, and left, promising to bring back an extra cot for him.

As the door closed behind her, Danny turned his gaze back to the bed and looked, really looked at the man lying there – the deathly still, bruised face, partially obscured by the ventilation mask, the ashen-gray skin, criss-crossed with jagged red lines of shallow scars, the thick bulge of white bandages peeking out from underneath a thin hospital blanket – and...

"Fuck you, Steven!" the words tumbled out, hoarse and vehement. "Fuck you and your goddamned hero complex and–" He couldn't say anything more, as his throat closed up unexpectedly only to spill forth a tortured, gut-wrenching sob an instant later. And then, it was as though a dam had cracked under pressure somewhere inside him, no longer strong enough to keep his raging emotions at bay, and he collapsed weakly onto the side of the bed, as tears ran down his cheeks in endless, miserable rivulets.

That was how Kono found him, when she slipped soundlessly into the room some time later, her own eyes red-rimmed from tears.

"Danny?" she asked softly, placing a hesitant hand on his sob-wracked shoulder.

"Hey," came a whispered reply, as Danny unfolded himself back into a sitting position.

"Maybe you should go lie down, brah," Kono suggested, her eyebrows scrunching worriedly, "you look beat."

He shook his head morosely, giving her a sad smile. "Tried that already. Can't. I have to... I don't know... stay close, in case he, you know..."

Seeing this normally garrulous man at such an awkward loss for words made Kono's heart twinge painfully, and she moved in closer, clasping the blond man's uninjured hand in hers.

"I spoke to his doctor," she began gently, her own voice on the verge of breaking, "he doesn't think there's any chance of him waking up." She winced at the expression of pure agony that flashed across her friend's features, pressing her lips in a tight twisted line. "Please, Danny," she all but begged, willing for him to listen, "you are exhausted. Lie down and rest for a bit. You'll be less than a foot away," she argued, gesturing to the nearby cot. "And if you want, I'll stay here for a bit, too, in case... in case anything changes."

Danny nodded numbly, letting her guide him to the neighboring cot, his tear-red eyes glued to the still form of his partner. As Kono began to pull away, though, he pulled her back, his troubled gaze fixed searchingly on her face.

"Martin?" he inquired hoarsely. "You find anything on him?"

She gave him a tight smile in response. "HPD have him in custody. Caught up with him at the airport - the guy was trying to make a clean getaway."

"I wanna see him," the blond moved to push up from the bed, but Kono held him down.

"Easy, brah. It can wait until tomorrow. He's not going anywhere."

Danny scowled in response but relented under her stern, unrelenting glare. "Did he say anything?" he asked, unsurprised when she shook her head 'no'.

"We're looking into him, though," the rookie assured. "Maybe there's some connection between him and you or Steve that we are not aware of." She patted him gently on the leg, as he finally allowed himself to relax deeper into the pillows, and added, "I'll let you know as soon as we have something on him. Sleep now, brah."

H50- H50- H50- H50- H50

Danny awoke several hours later to the blindingly bright rays of sunlight that streamed into the room through the partially open blinds and to someone gently but relentlessly shaking his shoulder.

"Danno. Come on, Danno, wake up."

He blinked a few times, focusing his sleep-blurred gaze on the small figure beside him.

"Gracie," he exclaimed finally, ignoring the twinge of pain in his injured shoulder, as he pushed himself abruptly into a sitting position, wrapping his little girl in a tight, almost desperate hug.

"She was discharged a few minutes ago," Rachel's voice supplied from somewhere off to the side. "She said she had something urgent to tell you before going home."

"Oh?" Danny pulled her back, gazing curiously at his daughter's grave-looking face. "What is it you wanted to tell me, Monkey?"

Grace bit her lip nervously, indecision dancing in the dark brown eyes. "It's about Uncle Steve."

"What-" Danny's head swiveled sharply in the direction of his partner, his gaze flicking nervously over the monitors. _No changes. For better __**or **__worse. _"What do you mean, Sweetheart? What about Uncle Steve?"

"I... I had this dream...," the nine-year-old trailed off, uncertain. Then throwing a quick, furtive glance at the motionless form of her favorite uncle, she added firmly, "I think you need to go back, Danno."

"Back?" he frowned at her, uncomprehending. "Back where?"

Grace's voice was quiet, when she responded, barely above a whisper. But Danny heard the three soft-spoken words as clearly as if they had been shouted to him right into his ear: "To the garden."

* * *

Duh-duh-duh dum... (insert tension music here) :-)

Thoughts?


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N **I'm back. After a re-ee-eally long delay. I do hope you, guys, haven't lost interest in the story. The good news is I'm likely to be wrapping things up in the next chapter, which means, it will probably be a much longer chapter (I'll split it in two, if it gets too unwieldy). Everything will come full circle, both in the fantasy world and the real one, and all the questions should be answered. So I hope you stick around for that.

And, as always, your comments are the best gift a writer could get, so, please, keep them coming! I love to hear your thoughts!

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**Chapter 7**

"I think I know what's going on, Danno," Grace concluded gravely, as she finished retelling her recollection of the dream to her flabbergasted father.

Eyes blown wide with confusion and disbelief, heart slamming against his ribcage with a painful desperation of a trapped wild animal, Danny stared at his daughter, trying hard to wrap his mind around the fact that what she had just told him differed little, if any, from the dream that haunted his own waking mind virtually from the moment he regained consciousness.

"You... you do?" he managed to squeak out, once he was able to pull enough air into his lungs to make at least some intelligible sounds.

Grace nodded vigorously. "It's just like in the story I was reading in the car. 'Beauty and the Beast', remember?"

Giving an exaggerated sigh of frustration at her father's bewildered look, she settled herself into a more comfortable position on the bed next to him and began her explanations.

"Okay, so there was this rich...," she scrunched up her face, trying hard to remember the unfamiliar word that described the man in the book, finally settling on something safe and familiar, "...father. And he had three daughters, right? So one day, he was traveling far from home and he got lost. He ended up in this dark, dark forest, and he was scared. He thought he'd never find his way home."

She shifted slightly, fixing her dad with a solemn, adult-like stare. "Then suddenly he saw this beautiful palace with a garden in front of it. ...Just like in the dream," she added, nodding meaningfully at him.

"A garden, huh?" Danny mumbled dazedly, still unsure where she was going with this.

"Yes!" came another vigorous nod. "And he saw a bright red rose there. And he remembered that his youngest daughter asked him to bring her back a rose, so he plucked it. And as soon as he did, this scary Beast appeared and yelled at him for taking his flower and threatened to kill him."

"I don't remember any of that being in the cartoon," Danny frowned, shrugging helplessly.

The nine-year-old rolled her eyes at him in response, shaking her head in mute disapproval. "The cartoon was all wrong, Daddy," she huffed indignantly.

"Okay, okay, sorry," he held up his good arm in mock surrender. "Do go on."

"Anyway," the dark brown eyes did another roll, as she continued, "the Beast found out that this rich guy had three daughters, so he told this father he'd let him go if one of his daughters comes to in his place. And the youngest daughter, Beauty, did, even though her dad didn't want her to go. And she began to live with the Beast, and she discovered that the Beast was actually very kind, and brave, and strong, and she started to really like him."

"Okay, Sweetheart, I still don't-"

"Beauty was still sad, because she couldn't be with her family," Grace continued, choosing to ignore her father's half-mumbled attempt at interruption, "so the Beast let her go visit them, but he told her she'd have to come back or he would die without her. Beauty promised to return in a week, but her jealous sisters convinced her to stay longer, and when she finally did return, she found the Beast dying in the garden."

Grace sniffled loudly, giving her father a tearful look that had him reaching for her once again. The girl fell toward him, clutching at his hospital gown with a sudden, frantic urgency.

"Beauty saved him, Danno," she spoke hurriedly, the brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She pulled him into her arms and told him that she loved him, and–"

"He turned into a handsome prince," Danny concluded with a tiny smirk, gently pulling at the brown pigtails. "That part I do remember. But that's just a fairy tale, Monkey, and I don't–"

"But don't you see, Danno?" Grace exclaimed, desperation once again creeping into her voice. "The dream – everything there happened the same way. Except _**I **_was the one, who took the flower, and that means _**you**_ have to go back to save Uncle Steve."

Danny cocked his head slightly, a disbelieving frown creasing his features. "Are ... are you saying you think Uncle Steve is ...the _Beast_?"

Swallowing thickly at her sharp, enthusiastic nod of confirmation, he flicked a quick glance at Rachel, who shrugged at him with a comically bemused expression.

"Think about it, Danno," Grace pleaded, snapping his attention back to her tear-filled brown eyes. "You know I'm right. You **have** to!"

His bottom lip tucked firmly between his teeth, Danny let his mind wander over the strange and unsettling details of his own dream and Grace's uncannily similar version of it.

"Well, I have been known to call your Uncle Steve an animal on a few occasions," he conceded finally, a disbelieving smile buried in the crook of his mouth. "I'm just not sure I'm ready to accept the idea that I get to be the girl in this, whatever this is."

"Then you'll do it, Danno?" Grace all but squealed, her face lighting up brighter than the morning sun.

He nodded, the movement deliberate, cautious. "I take it you have an idea on how I'm supposed to do it?"

In response, Grace bit her bottom lip, flicking an anxious glance at the man in the next bed. "You need to go back to sleep," she suggested finally, her voice quiet but holding an uncharacteristically steely note of certainty. "Like Uncle Steve."

"Like Uncle Steve, huh..." Danny frowned pensively, following his daughter's gaze. _It made sense. In an odd, drunkenly twisted sort of way it made perfect sense._

"Daniel?"

His ex-wife's hesitant call brought him out of his musings, and he looked toward her, surprised and strangely pleased at the mixture of confusion and concern he saw in the dark brown eyes.

"You're not seriously considering this," Rachel queried softly. "Are you?" As he remained quiet, she pressed on, her voice growing in urgency. "It was a dream, Daniel. Grace said it herself, she–"

"I had that exact dream, Rach," Danny interrupted, a rueful smile twisting his lips. "To the letter." He shook his head, as if incredulous at the very notion he himself was proposing. "It was vivid as hell, scary as hell, but I... I dismissed it at first," he admitted reluctantly, throwing an almost apologetic look at his daughter. "Now, though... I don't know. It makes sense, Rach."

The Brit opened her mouth again, ready with another objection, but Danny had already made up his mind. Reaching carefully around Grace's small form, he felt for the nurse call button and pressed it with a desperate abandon of a man about to jump head first out of an open airplane door.

H50- H50- H50- H50- H50

"So... Mr. Martin," Chin drawled out slowly, as he strode into the interrogation room, followed closely by Kono, "you seemed to have been in quite a hurry to leave Oahu yesterday."

He moved closer to the pudgy, red-cheeked suspect, who sat sweating profusely in the uncomfortable metal chair. "You cleared out of your apartment without even bothering to clear away the dirty dishes, buy a one-way ticket for the first available flight to the mainland..." Chin paused, glancing down at the paper in his hand. "To... Shanghai?" He arched an eyebrow at him in mock surprise, inviting him to explain.

The man, James Martin, paled, shifting nervously in his chair, his small colorless eyes flicking back and forth between his two interrogators. "I...uh... my sister got sick," he squeaked out finally, forcing down a nervous swallow. "I got a call that morning, so I..."

"Your sister," Kono cocked her head to the side, studying the man before her with a cold, predatory expression. "Would that be the same sister, who transferred $50,000 into your bank account a few weeks ago?"

The ruddy cheeks lost the remaining color, as the hapless mechanic opened and closed his mouth soundlessly a few times, resembling a strange blubbery fish that's just been pulled out of the water and thrown onto a slowly heating frying pan.

"See, Mr. Martin," Kono continued smoothly, as though unaware of the man's flustered, floundering attempts at interjection, "we looked into your finances. And up until very recently you were struggling to make ends meet." The rookie flicked a quick, conspiratorial glance at her cousin and turned her piercing gaze back to their sweating suspect. "So would you care to explain your sudden good fortune?"

"I... I...," the man fumbled, the pale eyes widening anxiously.

"Hmm," Chin folded his arms across his chest, raising a skeptical eyebrow at their pudgy prisoner. "I'm afraid our friend here might be suffering from a serious speech impediment, Kono. I wonder if a night or two in the interrogation room might help him with that problem."

"No, no, please," Martin shook his head furiously, desperation making his eyes sparkle wildly. "I... it's... my shop, it was going under, you see," he stammered out, his words hurried, jumbled. "And I... I had nowhere to turn, all out of options, you know. And then this former client of mine calls me out of the blue. Tells me he'll pay me $50,000 if I mess up the brakes on this one guy's car. It was like my lucky day, you know. I could get my business back on its feet." He swallowed harshly, blinking the sweat out of his eyes.

"I didn't know the guy was a cop, I swear," he pleaded, noticing the angry tightening of fists of the two people standing across from him. "I... I saw the news about the crash and I panicked."

"So if it hadn't been a cop in that car, it would have been perfectly alright to kill an innocent person?" Kono bit out through clenched teeth, disgust for this man making her nauseous. "Is that what you're saying?"

"No, no, that's not it at all," frantic now, the man waved his hands as much as the handcuffs allowed. "I just meant... I..."

"What is the name of your client?" Chin interrupted, his voice cold.

"Ru-rutherford. Franklin Rutherford."

The cousins shared a look – a mixture of vague recognition and confusion – and walked out as one, leaving a sweating, shaking Martin alone in his chair.

"Is it just me or does the name Rutherford sound familiar?" Kono asked, once the door was closed tightly behind her.

Chin frowned pensively, leading them both back to the main office. "I definitely remember seeing that name before," he mumbled, fingers flying over the keyboard. "There." He nodded at a booking photo of a balding, gray-haired man, who was glaring daggers at the camera.

"Donald Rutherford," Kono snapped her fingers in recognition, "of course. Isn't he in jail though?"

"He is," Chin confirmed with a sharp nod. "Still in Halawa, according to these records."

"So this Franklin..."

"A cousin," the older Hawaiian supplied after a few more key strokes, pulling up a DMV picture of the second Rutherford, who, apart for a slightly puffier face and a darker complexion, was a near copy of his incarcerated relative.

"You think this is related to the Rutherford case?" Kono asked, staring intently at the newly pulled up photograph. "I mean, it's been over 2 years..."

Chin shrugged. "I think it won't hurt to ask Franklin here a few questions," he suggested, smirking at his younger cousin. "Wanna go for a drive?"

Echoing the smile, the latter reached into her pocket, pulling out car keys. "Love to."

* * *

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N Well, this is spectacularly late, and I sincerely apologize to anybody out there, who is still interested in this story. Those of you who have contacted me privately - a HUGE-HUGE thank you for your concern! - know that I've been completely overwhelmed with work, to the point where I little time to do anything else (including sleep). I am (FINALLY) on official maternity leave, and, other than trying to rest up and plunge more actively into my regular motherly and wifely duties, I plan on getting back into writing as much as I can. **

**This story is almost finished. I was going to make this the last chapter, but as I have already made you, guys, wait so long, I decided to post what I have now and leave the rest (a smaller part that I still have to put on paper/screen) for the epilogue. **

**I hope those of you who have not lost interest will enjoy this chapter. I appreciate all of your wonderful comments and heart-warming wishes! Oh, and I now have absolutely no excuse for not responding to your comments, so I give you a solemn promise to write back (as long as you sign in when you post your review ;-))**

**Thanks again for your patience with me! **

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**Chapter 8**

"Absolutely not," the doctor shook his head emphatically, earning himself an annoyed glare from his patient. "You are still recovering from a serious concussion, and I am not about to jeopardize the health of my patient by putting him in a coma."

"Look," Danny huffed impatiently, "I understand that there are risks–"

"With all due respect, Detective," the doctor interrupted, shaking his head in disapproval, "I don't think you do."

"I understand," the blond insisted sharply, enunciating every syllable. "I also understand that my friend has no other options as of this time, and that you have pretty much given up on him."

"We haven't given up on him," the doctor objected, bristling at the offensive suggestion. "We just–"

"Don't have any options at this time," Danny finished for him. "Which is exactly why I need to do this."

"And you feel that putting you in a medically induced coma would somehow help your friend?" the doctor asked, incredulous.

"This is insanity, Daniel," Rachel spoke up harshly, ignoring his annoyed glare. "Doctor?"

The man in scrubs pressed his pale lips together, the palpable tension between the former couple making him at the very least a bit uncomfortable.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mrs. Edwards' ...uhm... assessment," he dared finally, wincing inwardly at the intense blue lightning that flashed at him from underneath a pair of threateningly knitted blond brows.

"Listen, Doc," the Jersey native pulled himself up higher in bed in a less than subtle attempt at intimidation, "I get it, okay? You're worried that if something goes wrong it's gonna come back to bite you in the you know what. So how about this: I sign whatever papers you need me to sign to help you," he made exaggerated air quotes with his fingers, "'cover your ass' and you give me the sedative or whatever the hell else you need to give me to knock me out like Sleeping Beauty over there."

"Detective–"

"Please," Danny interrupted once again, his voice now bordering on pleading, "I **have **to do this. Just ... just give me two hours. Please."

"Alright," the doctor sighed in resignation, the tightly pinched lips in one corner of his mouth – an outward manifestation of his disapproval. "But," he raised his hand in grave warning, "I will be monitoring your progress throughout the entire time and if I see so much as a hint that something is wrong, I'm pulling you out that same minute. You understand?"

Grimly, assuredly, he nodded, "I understand." And as the doctor left to give the nurses further instructions, and he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to calm his raging heart, he felt a small hand encircle his wrist, and his daughter's voice whispered above his ear, "Remember the story, Danno. You have to do it just like in the story."

H50- H50- H50- H50- H50

Something cold and wet splashed repeatedly onto his face, and Danny moved his head to the side to get away from the irritating moisture. The move worked unexpectedly against him, as his cheek came in unpleasantly jarring contact with something equally cold and wet and disgustingly slushy, which quickly made its way into his nose and mouth.

The pale blue eyes flew open, and he jackknifed into a sitting position, wiping at his face and sputtering indignantly.

Mud. The grey viscous slush was all around him, made even soggier and more disgusting by the near-chilling drizzle that poured incessantly down from the bleak, cloud-veiled sky. The blond shook his head incredulously, frowning at the waterlogged landscape around him. Funny, he didn't remember it being so wet here the last time.

He pushed himself up, groaning, as his bad knee protested the move. The groan, though, quickly turned into a surprised yelp, when his foot slipped on the sodden ground, nearly sending him face-down onto the gooey, syrupy muck. His right hand shot out, grabbing convulsively for the nearest branch, as he fought desperately to regain his balance, and he cursed loudly and with great relish, letting the mud, the rain, and the entire Plane, where he found himself once again, know exactly what he thought of them in the most unflattering of terms.

Mud slurped under his feet, as he trudged carefully forward, slipping and sliding periodically, until he managed to get himself out to the somewhat less soggy, grassy area. Breathing a sigh of relief, he let go of yet another branch, wiped his other mud-covered hand on his already ruined pants, and looked around, trying to orient himself amid the sodden greenery. It sort of resembled the small meadow where this strange dream-turned-nightmare first began.

_And if this was the right place, then the garden should be... _Danny turned, squinting through the thin sheet of rain at the line of trees ahead. _There!_

He hurried toward the thicket, a sense of urgency blossoming in his chest, growing more and more intense every second. The trees were much less welcoming of him this time, their reception more than a little hostile. The blond flinched, as the very first branch scraped harshly against his side, and he barely had time to dodge the one behind it that nearly took out his eye. It was as if the entire hodgepodge of the forest was dead set against allowing him to pass, stretching its leaf- and needle-covered limbs toward him in blatantly antagonistic attempts at tripping him or slicing a good chunk of skin off his protectively raised arms.

It was a good half hour later, when, scraped bloody and covered with mud, he finally stumbled out onto the familiar brick path. "Steee-eve!" The sound echoed across the primly laid-out gardens, made gray and muted by the incessant rain.

"Steeeve!" he called again, wiping furiously at his face with his muddied sleeve, as he listened to his scream bounce off the shroud of drizzle that surrounded him. He stood there, breathing harshly, as only the rain and the gradually strengthening wind responded to his cries.

_"Where the hell are you, McGarrett?"_

A flash of white in the distance caught his attention, and Danny lurched toward it, breaking into a slightly tilted, limping run. The shape grew before him, slowly morphing into a human form, lying prone and twisted on the wet ground. And still, all too still beneath the punishing elements.

"Steve," Danny breathed out, dropping to his knees beside him with a resounding splash. His friend was laying on his side, his face hidden, and Danny reached for him carefully, tugging at the sodden clothing, until the prone man was rolled gently into his waiting arms.

"Oh, god, Steve, no, please, no..." The gasped out words hung above them, a frozen plea, punctuated by rain and mixed with raw tears. A plea for life, where there clearly wasn't any left. For what he saw was the ashen skin, crisscrossed with deep scrapes, made fainter by the falling rain; the perfect stillness of this normally so active a person, a stillness that was undisturbed even by the slightest motion of the man's chest; and the ugly, jagged hole, dug deep into his friend's abdomen, surrounded by a large, grotesque stain of ominous pink – the washed-out remnants of the blood that no longer flowed.

"What are you doing here, Daniel Williams?" a stern voice crackled through the air, as a gray-robed figure appeared before him, having seemingly woven itself out of the very raindrops that continued to steadily fall on its ghostly shoulders.

Danny jumped, startled by the sudden appearance, and instinctively pulled his partner's inert body closer. "I'm here to get my friend back," he retorted, hiding his apprehension behind a growl of anger.

The figure stepped closer, its posture stiff, almost threatening. "You have already been told that there's nothing for you here. You need to leave."

"Steve is here," Danny countered, tightening his hold on his friend. "I made the mistake of leaving him before. I'm not about to do that again."

The creature narrowed its eyes in displeasure, its voice growing colder along with the surrounding temperature. "He chose to stay," it argued. "He belongs here now."

"No! No, he doesn't." The blond shook his head emphatically, not quite able to keep desperation from leaking into his voice. "He belongs with us. He... just... just... let him go. Please."

A sharp, cackling sound reached his ears, an astonished bark of a laughter. "You, humans, have a strange way of repeating yourselves. Are you aware that your friend here said pretty much the same thing when he was pleading for **your** life?"

Danny frowned, tensing, as he stared into the compassionless gray mask above him. The creature was taunting him, openly mocking his desperate plea, while Steve was...

"Listen, I-"

"Go back to where you came from, Daniel Williams," the creature interrupted, its voice flat and impassive as though he were reciting a boring lecture on the history of infusoria. "There's nothing for you to do here."

"I'm not leaving without him," Danny repeated stubbornly, standing up taller on his knees, daring the creature to deny him.

The creature regarded him silently for a moment, then cocked its head to the side, its eyes getting a glazed-over, faraway look. "Your human friends may not leave you much of a choice. They are already talking about pulling you out."

"They won't," he assured, hoping that his confidence was not misplaced.

"Wouldn't your daughter want you back?"

"My daughter wants her uncle Steve back, too," the Jersey native countered, blinking the rain water out of his eyes. "And she will not want me coming back alone."

The creature shook its head, stretching its hand out toward the prone figure. "I'm afraid you will have to. Your friend is gone. There is nothing you can do anymore to bring him back."

Danny bit his lip, struggling against the building nausea. "That's not...," he gulped, forcing air into his suddenly starved lungs, "there **has** to be something I can-"

"He **chose** this fate," the creature cut in, unperturbed. "He wanted us to make sure you knew that. And his choice set you and your daughter free. There's nothing more that you can do."

The calmly spoken verdict tore at his soul; his mind – a twisted, swirling fog of guilt and despair. _Was there really nothing that he could do? Has he well and truly failed his friend?_ He glanced down at the lifeless form, still wrapped tightly in his trembling arms, and slammed his eyes shut against the threatening moisture.

_"Remember the story, Danno. You have to do it just like in the story." _His daughter's parting words came to him unbidden, a sudden blinding ray of hope in a sea of dark despair. Grace had been right about him finding his way back into the garden. She might be right about this as well. He had to try it. He had no other choice left. His two hours were rapidly coming to an end, and if he couldn't convince the creature in this realm to let Steve go now, then his friend was as good as dead. And there was no way Danny was going to let that happen.

His mind made up, he lifted his head up once more to stare into the pair of murky eyes that regarded him placid curiosity. "I can't leave without him," he said hoarsely, pulling Steve closer to his chest. "I need him too much. We all do. He... he might think that he's all alone out there – no roots, no family connections. But he's wrong. He's got a family, an ohana that loves him as much as any blood relative would, if not more. And we cannot bear the thought of not having him with us. We are not whole without him, and we never will be. We need him, you understand?"

The creature said nothing, as it continued to stare at him, unblinking, and Danny went on, his voice taking on a deeper, desperate note. "He always thinks himself responsible for all of us, always ready to throw himself under the bus for our sake. But what he doesn't realize is that any one of us would do the same for him. In a heartbeat."

He drew a quick shaky breath, rubbing his face against his damp shoulder to wipe away the irritating moisture – both fresh and salty, and turned his gaze downward to the man wrapped tightly in his arms. "You hear that, Steven? You don't have the monopoly on self-sacrifice, you stupid son of a bitch. You have no right to decide that your life is somehow less important than any one of ours. Because we don't see it that way. _**I **_don't see it that way."

He swallowed harshly, struggling to control the shakiness in his voice. "You need to come back to us, babe. Please. It's not easy being partnered with a crazy-ass, grenade-toting, roof-leaping Super SEAL, and God knows I've ranted enough about my significantly increased chances of dying a violent death when I'm in your company, but... when it comes right down to it, I wouldn't have you any other way." He let out another shaky sigh, oblivious to the sudden lull in the rain, all of his attention locked on the slack, ghostly-white features of his friend. "I love you, man," he whispered brokenly, swallowing down another lump of tears. "Please, come back."

A sudden gust of wind ripped through the garden, making him look up, and Danny frowned in confusion at the changes around him. Gone was the incessant drizzle, the gray, depressive dullness. Dark, menacing thunderclouds gave way to soft white fluffs of vapor that slowly drifted across the brilliantly blue sky. The garden came alive once more, bursting with all of its rich, vibrant colors that sparkled brightly in the rain-washed sun.

"Your time is up, Daniel Williams," the creature's voice reminded him calmly, bringing his attention back to its gray-robed form. "It is time for you to leave."

Throwing a hopeful look back down onto his friend's form, Danny felt his heart clench once again in despair. There was no movement, no rise and fall of chest, no change. "But he... I –"

"Goodbye, Daniel Williams."

And just like that the garden and everything in it disappeared before him, and he was plunged once more into pitch-black darkness.

* * *

TBC

_Only the epilogue left. Well, what do you think? _


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N **Well, this is it. This little journey comes to an end. I was hoping to finish a bit earlier than I did, but I was having some trouble with the final scene. Hope it came out to your satisfaction.

Many of you wondered about the change in the weather at the end of the last chapter. Was it meaningful? Absolutely! The garden and the Guardians reacted to Danny's presence with hostility, as it was unwilling to accept his intrusion. Hence the rain and the wind and the falling temperatures. But then, when Danny said what was in his heart, the way Grace had told him to do it, the reaction of the elements changed. Whether or not Danny's words had the ultimate impact... You are about to find out :)

A big, huge THANK YOU to all of you who commented on this story (especially the guest reviewers, whom I cannot thank personally), followed it, even through the long absences, favorited it. I am so-so grateful for your support! Thank you!

Hope you enjoy this last chapter. And, as always, I welcome your comments (hint, hint :-))

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**Epilogue**

"So, remember this case about a dead fisherman that you, guys, found on a cliff? ...Danny?"

"Huh?" the blond responded absent-mindedly, his gaze riveted to the motionless figure lying in bed before them.

Lips pressed into a tight line of worry, Kono shifted in her chair, leaning closer to the blond detective. "He's doing good, Danny," she whispered, her hand curling around the detective's wrist. "Look at him. He's breathing on his own. His vitals are improving. He–"

"Why hasn't he woken up then?" The desperate plea in the pale blue eyes was almost her undoing, and she swallowed thickly before continuing.

"It's only been two days," she reminded him gently. "Two days ago he was dying, Danny. And now he's in recovery. It's a miracle, brah. Whatever you did, you pulled him from the brink. And that's huge! Huge!"

"Yeah," Danny nodded absently, his gaze once again returning to his still unconscious partner. Then shaking his head as if to tear himself awake from a bad dream, he turned toward the young woman, murmuring distractedly, "You were saying something about a case?"

Kono squeezed his wrist tighter, giving him an encouraging smile. "The dead fisherman that you and Steve found up in the mountains a couple of years back," she nodded. "Remember?"

"Is that when the Super SEAL managed to crack his head open on a rock?"

"I believe it was just his arm, brah," Kono objected, swallowing down a grin.

"A matter of perspective, Kalakaua," Danny countered, unperturbed. "But why are you bringing this up now?"

"Right," the rookie smiled again, relieved to see him distracted enough to almost be back to his old self. "Anyway, it turns out that our mechanic James Martin was approached a few weeks ago by a former client of his, who offered him $50,000 to mess up the breaks on your car."

The pale blue eyes narrowed at that, Danny's posture stiffening. "Who?" he asked sharply, all of his attention now laser-focused on the young woman's face.

"A Franklin Rutherford."

"Rutherford."

She nodded. "And, before you ask, yes, he is related to the other Rutherford - the one that shot that poor fisherman."

"To keep his son's escape a secret," Danny murmured, remembering.

"Exactly. Donald Rutherford is his brother."

"So this was, what, _revenge_?" A small shrug of confirmation was his response, and the Jersey native frowned, his mouth twisting into an angry scowl at the thought of what that one act of revenge had cost their small tight-knit family, of what it might still cost – since Steve wasn't completely out of the woods yet.  
"Why now?" he whispered finally, turning his gaze back to the man in bed. "Why wait two years?"

Kono let out a short sigh, knowing the answer would not make accepting what happened any easier. "Jordan Rutherford was shanked in prison three weeks ago," she supplied finally, letting the sentence hang a while, before adding, "His dad tried to commit suicide after that. He's been locked in prison psych ward ever since."

"Uh-huh," Danny nodded absently, his hands gripping the bed railing so hard that his knuckles turned a blinding shade of white. His voice, when he spoke next, was shaking with barely restrained anger. "So, let me get this straight. His murderer nephew gets killed off in prison. His murderer brother goes insane. And he decides that the best way to react is by attempting to kill myself, my little girl and my p...partner?"

"That about sums it up," Kono breathed out, once again settling her hand on his shoulder.

The blond whipped his head toward her, his eyes blazing with fury. "I want a few minutes with him," he ground out finally, his voice brooking no objections.

"Danny-"

He growled then, a low, feral rumble coming from somewhere deep in his throat. "A few minutes, Kono. I just wanna talk to the bastard. I promise I'll-"

The rookie gave him a strange look of helplessness and compassion. "He's dead, Danny," she said quietly, her words – a proverbial bucket of ice-cold water on his raging fury. "Chin and I found him hanging in the bathroom at his home. Along with a suicide note."

Danny turned away from her then, leaning forward on his elbows. "How long ago?" he murmured, staring dully at the floor before him.

"At least a couple of days," Kono replied, knowing instinctively what he was referring to. "We're still waiting on Max to give us the exact T.O.D."

Hands curled into tight fists, Danny raised his head again, his gaze – smoldering remnants of the angry inferno, and spoke slowly, venomously. "So he waits to hear that Martin finished the job, and then offs himself to avoid facing the consequences."

"Look, I would have loved to get my hands on that guy. So would Chin. But, Danny-" She reached for him again, but the blond bolted out of the chair, all but pushing her hand aside.

"The son of a bitch got off easy!" he bit out sharply, stalking over to the window, his whole body shaking with the overpowering urge to do something - anything, but to stand there and accept the fact that the person responsible for getting them into this mess was no longer within his reach. He glanced numbly at the white-knuckled fist that was his right hand, frowned, as if only now becoming aware of the painful crush of its fingers, and suddenly, swiftly drove that same fist into the wall.

Kono jumped, as the sharp bone-crunching crack reverberated across the room, startling her out of her own dark thoughts. She was about to go to him, when a movement from the bed caught her attention, and she all but squealed in excitement upon seeing a sluggish, bleary-eyed, but definitely awake McGarrett struggle to pull himself up into a semi-sitting position.

"Boss," she breathed out, her face breaking into a grin wide enough to make her jaws ache with the tension.

His injured hand cradled against his chest, Danny twisted back around at her quiet exclamation and gaped bewilderedly at the scene before him for all of two seconds before bellowing out a horrified "What the hell do you think you're doing, Steven? Get yourself back down this minute!"

McGarrett turned his head toward at him, wincing slightly. "Lower the volume... Danno," he gasped, his voice hoarse from unuse. "My head's killing me."

"Your... your _**head**_?" Forgetting momentarily about his recent injury, Danny threw both hands up in the air, sputtering indignantly. "His head is killing him," he repeated hotly, throwing Kono a look of angry disbelief, to which she responded with an awkward shrug. "Do you believe this guy?" Turning his attention back to the man in bed, he snapped off an irate, "You're lucky you even _**have**_ a head that hurts, you crazy son of a bitch."

Steve blinked slowly at that, giving him his best aneurysm face under the circumstances. "I don't understand..." he mumbled, switching his gaze to Kono, who merely shrugged in response, grinning from ear to ear.

"I'll go get the doctor... for both of you," she nodded pointedly at Danny's hand and ducked out of the room, leaving her confused boss to experience the full brunt of a relieved rant from his equal parts overjoyed and irate partner.

H50-H50-H50

Danny brought Grace to see him the next day. The little girl walked cautiously into the room, following her father, throwing a hopeful yet hesitant look at the bedridden man.

"Hey, Gracie," the SEAL's warm, welcoming smile was all the encouragement she needed, and she dashed toward him, leaping onto his bed with the agility of an African gazelle and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

Steve went sheet-pale at her enthusiastic greeting, eyes slamming shut at the unexpected onslaught of pain. Yet he still managed to put up a hand to forestall his partner's worried attempt to pull Grace away, wrapping his other arm around her body instead.

"S'alright, Danny... m'alright..." he gasped out, fighting to catch his breath.

But Danny wasn't convinced. Setting himself carefully down on the bed behind his daughter, he placed a hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her back. "Let's give your Uncle Steve a bit more room to breathe, hey, Monkey?"

Grace pulled back almost instantly, her worried gaze searching Steve's face. "Uncle Steve?"

The former SEAL smiled tightly, hoping it looked reassuring enough. "I'm good, Gracie. Promise. And I'm really glad to see you."

She returned his smile, her face lighting up like dew-covered meadow on a bright summer morning. "I'm glad, too, Uncle Steve. I was so worried that you would be stuck in the garden forever. I'm glad Danno brought you back."

"What?" His forehead creased in confusion, Steve shifted his questioning gaze to the girl's father. "Danny?"

"Yeah, well," the blond shrugged evasively, "there was this dream I had, when I was unconscious in the car that my maniac of a partner drove into a tree..."

"I was trying to avoid the bus," McGarrett objected automatically, trying to suppress a shudder that ran through him as he remembered the scene.

Danny wasn't listening, though. Hand raised in warning, he snapped off a good-natured "Zip it, Steven," before continuing with his previous train of thought. "Anyway, in the dream my annoyingly self-sacrificing partner gives himself up to a bunch of weird-eyed ghosties to let me and my little girl escape."

"I-"

"Shush," Danny interrupted him yet again, earning himself a mildly annoyed glare from his partner, "not done talking here. So then I wake up and I am told that my partner is in a coma and is not likely to wake up, seeing how he had virtually impaled himself on the dashboard of my very own car." He scowled at Steve, who dared to roll his eyes at his yet another heated interpretation of the crash (_as if he hadn't chastised him enough yesterday_). "**Then**," the blond intoned, glaring daggers at the SEAL, daring him to interject once more, "my bright girl comes to me and tells me, 'The garden was real, Danno. You have to go back for Uncle Steve.' So I convinced the good doc to put me in a temporary coma and off I went to rescue your sorry ass from the poltergeist land."

"Poltergeist land, huh...," the dark-haired man murmured, his eyes getting a lost, faraway look. "I thought it was just a bad dream..."

Danny pursed his lips in sympathy, his hand hovering briefly above the SEAL's thigh, before patting it gently in silent comfort. "Whatever it was... was real enough. For all three of us, apparently."

Steve nodded, swallowing harshly, his mind churning over Danny's words, trying to reconcile them with the all-too-vivid images from his supposed dream: the Guardians, his desperate last-minute bargain for Danny and Grace, the cold sharp steel that tore through his body, stealing his breath.

"And you... you went into a coma? For me?"

He sounded unsure and so awed that Danny once again felt the urge to squeeze his friend's leg in a gesture of reassurance. Instead he licked his lips, shrugging awkwardly. "It was Grace's idea. She said the whole thing reminded her of the Beauty and the Beast story she was reading."

"I don't understand." The confused look was back – a full-blown aneurysm face, and Danny sighed dramatically, launching into a more detailed explanation.

"The garden, the flower that Grace picked, you dying when we left," he ticked off his fingers in front of Steve's face. "Use your imagination, McGarrett."

"Riiiight. So that makes Grace the dad, me the Beast, and you, what, Beauty?" Steve chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief, but stopped short, puzzled by their matching no-nonsense expressions. "You're serious about this," he said finally, not even bothering to hide his astonishment.

"Yes, I am serious, you jerk," the smaller man snapped, slapping him lightly on the knee. "And, for the record, I resent the fact that I had to be the one to play the princess in this excuse for a fairy tale."

"Beauty wasn't really a princess, Danno," Grace chimed in suddenly, drawing their attention toward her. "Not until she..." she trailed off, hesitant, giving him and Steve a strange look.

"Not until she what?" Danny frowned, not receiving an answer. "Grace?"

Her head lowered impossibly, face hidden behind her pigtails, she whispered, "Not until she... married the Beast."

Danny froze at that, his mouth hanging open, until he heard an odd strangled sound coming from the bed. Turning to Steve, he was mortified to find the latter rapidly turning red with the effort of holding in laughter. "If you say one word, Steven, I swear I'm putting your ass right back into a coma."

"I.. uh... I don't know, Danno," the former SEAL gasped out, shaking and huffing with laughter and clearly unintimidated by Danny's death glare. "Think of the benefits: shared income, spousal support. B'sides... I think you'd look pretty good in a tiara."

"I'm warning you, McGarrett." But Danny's growl lost all of its threatening momentum, as Grace's delighted giggle joined in with his partner's snorts of amusement.

"I hate you, Steven," the Jersey native muttered in feigned fury. "I hate you so much."

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but it was Grace, who intervened on his behalf. "You can't take it back, Danno," she objected sternly, shaking her finger at her father.

"Take what back?" the blond frowned, uncertain.

"Didn't you tell Uncle Steve you loved him, when you went back to the garden?" the nine-year-old countered with an exaggerated sigh of annoyance. "You **had** to, Danno," she insisted, her lips curling into a pout, "otherwise, it wouldn't have worked. And if you said it, you can't take it back."

And all Danny could do was gulp in pitiful helplessness, as his partner, drained from tear-spurting laughter, flopped back onto his pillow with a wheezed out "No worries, my dear Beauty. ...The feeling's mu-...mutual."

"That's the last time I'm ever sticking my neck out for you, McGarrett," the blond grumbled in exasperation, even as his own lips twitched into an unwilling smile . "Next time a bunch of transparent ghouls hold your no-good sorry soul hostage, you're ON. YOUR. OWN."

FIN

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:) _And they lived happily ever after _


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